


ownership

by FaultyParagon



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Anger, He's always an asshole though, Helicopters, Implied Relationships, Impulse Control, M/M, Minor Rufus Shinra/Tseng, Pre-Canon, Romance, Rufus Shinra Being An Asshole, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25663522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaultyParagon/pseuds/FaultyParagon
Summary: Reno takes Rufus to Shinra HQ, but Rufus isn't going to make it easy for him. He's happy to wait until Reno breaks, as long as it takes.-aka a short, tense little moment between Reno and Rufus. Implied Rufus/Tseng, pre-FFVII canon.
Relationships: Reno & Rufus Shinra, Reno/Rufus Shinra, Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Kudos: 19





	ownership

**Author's Note:**

> I've been itching to write a random little Reno/Rufus piece lately, so here's something to satiate that, at least for a bit.

**ownership**

“What the hell is the matter with you?!”

The words are rushed and hurried, vitriol and disgust spewing from lips too pale to be real, from a cupid’s bow so cleanly arched and pointed it could have belonged upon a billboard advertising for _Loveless_ ; the anger is nothing pretty, however, as turquoise eyes burn with a ferocity that could almost be mistaken for the eyes of one fueled by mako.

Rufus knows Reno has no trace of the substance within his blood. For that, he is grateful; mako-modified SOLDIERs will always be Hojo’s horrifying pet project, even if they are sworn to Shinra. The Turks, however, belong to him, the Vice President, no matter what his fool of a father says. They have belonged to him for a long, long time.

“Does it really matter?” he murmurs, tempted to press his thumb further, delving into a mouth so hot the thought of it tightens up Rufus’ belly. Rufus enjoys the hiss of rage slipping past those pretty, pale lips, for he knows that he has caught Reno in his trap. He pulls back his hand, ignoring the heightened tingling in his fingertips from contact with Reno’s flesh, grinning as Reno shamefully closes his unbuttoned collar, pushing Rufus’ hand away from his chest with as much force as he can manage without actually harming Rufus, without losing control of the hovering craft. Powerlessness must taste bitter to Reno. He has not learned to yearn for it yet.

That will change.

“You’re messin’ with me. I don’t need this.” Reno’s eyes shift back to the GPS, back to the anti-collision radar, back to the chart spread out across his knee for good measure, before radioing into the tower in Junon with every speck of poise that is befitting of his job title.

Rufus loves watching Reno work. It is so rare that the redhead, normally so cool and collected, would ever be flustered- he always has the perfect comeback, almost to the point where it is infuriating- but Rufus likes the view; the tinge of pink on Reno’s cheeks, the way crimson strands reflect the sunrise and fall into those bright eyes and make Rufus want to brush that hair out of his view and be _kind-_

He reigns in that impulse. It wouldn’t suit him. _Reno_ wouldn’t suit him.

He does not care.

He glances out the window of the helicopter, readjusting his headset and smirking as the control tower responds at last to Reno’s words.

“Bold of you to assume,” Rufus murmurs evenly, “that I am offering.”

Reno’s mouth twitches downwards as he scans the brilliant horizon. “What, and you just randomly decided to feel me up-“

“Bold of you to assume that I need you- that I do not have someone waiting for me.” He pauses, letting that information sink in for a moment; the sense of satisfaction that floods his veins is far headier a rush than anything he will feel that night, however. He already knows this, but he does not care. With a slight lilt in his voice, he adds, “Perhaps you can bring some Cure materia to me upon landing; higher-grade, if you will. Your supervisor will need it.”

Reno bristles instantly, and Rufus relishes in the sight of Reno’s knuckles gripping onto the control column so tightly that his creamy skin turns stark-white and bony at the thought, imagining what Rufus already knows shall be awaiting him upon his return to Shinra Headquarters; the tall Wutaian man upon his knees, patient, silent, stoic. Bound. Tseng gave himself up to Rufus long, long ago.

“He begs for me.”

Reno is unable to bite back his snarl, but he is smart, keeping his eyes fixated upon the sky, his head on a swivel for incoming traffic. He is always professional, always poised- he will never retaliate against his Vice President.

Rufus cannot wait for the day that his lack of retaliation blossoms into something more. He will enjoy breaking Reno when that day comes. For now, however, he sits back, crosses one leg over another, and enjoys the view. The sunrise over Junon’s waters is always a breathtaking one, and he shall savour it- savour golden ochre spilling across the sky, glittering blue waters below so blindingly-bright he can scarcely breathe, turquoise eyes burning with the same intensity as the glowing horizon, red hair itching to be settled and pulled within his reach. He shall savour it all.

After all, he has time, and Reno will one day join his supervisor on his knees; patient, silent, stoic. Reno does not know it, but the mere fact that Rufus brushing a thumb against that arched cupid’s bow was enough to set Reno off is the greatest proof- whether he realizes it yet or not, Reno gave himself up to Rufus long, long ago, too.

_**=fin=** _

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's that. The original title a friend offered me to use for this nonsense was "That One Time My Boss Called Me A Brazen Hussy Over My Tits?!!" so... that's the tone we're setting here apparently.
> 
> Leave a comment and let me know what you think!


End file.
